


The Road to Hell Is Paved With Regret

by Noelleian



Series: Take Me Home [2]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Angst, Drama, Drunk Sex, F/M, Gundam Wing: Frozen Teardrop, Infidelity, M/M, Pining, Pre Frozen Teardrop, Romance, Tragedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7257622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noelleian/pseuds/Noelleian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifteen years before Frozen Teardrop, Trowa and Quatre are still harboring feelings for each other, though they’ve skirted the issue for over a decade. Telling themselves it could never work with the lives they lead. A tragedy forces Trowa to realize that life is too short and love is too precious. With patient persistence, he convinces Quatre to follow his own heart and take a chance on something that could wind up being the best thing that ever happened to them</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road to Hell Is Paved With Regret

**Author's Note:**

> So here is part two of the Take Me Home series. There will be one more part to this. Probably. I'm not planning on more, but you never know. There is death and violence in this part so be forewarned of that. Also, Trowa uses the "Pullout Method" which in reality is never a good idea. Just FYI. ~_^
> 
> Hope you like! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Trowa watched Quatre climb into the back of the cab and bit down on his tongue to keep from calling out to him. His heart felt raw, empty as the tires spun in the wet gravel, the sound reaching his ears from fifty feet away. A few seconds later, they gained traction and the yellow car turned in a half circle. Trowa caught the almost ghostly image of Quatre through the back window, foggy, imperceptible through the smeary, wet glass. He lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave, swallowing down his emotion when Quatre's palm pressed against the window. Then the car pulled away, the red tail lights fading in the misty gloom.

He remained at the open door until the last of the lights faded into the distance and absently touched his lips, still feeling the tingle from their kiss. His heart and soul had just departed again and he wasn't sure how many times he could endure it before he broke. Every time Quatre left, a little piece of himself cracked and separated, attaching itself to the blond as he disappeared yet again, and leaving an even larger void in his chest. It was slowly but surely becoming a vacuum, a black gaping maw of dashed hopes and regret.

His arms felt weak and useless without his love to hold. There had been precious little time together, as there always was, but Trowa made the best of it by keeping Quatre close to him, never letting him stray too far away when he came to visit. Last night had been amazing and they hadn't even had sex. They still had yet to bring their relationship to that point and Trowa knew that was his own doing. He knew Quatre was frustrated by it. He was, too. But he wanted them to actually be _together_ , for keeps. Maybe he was using it as leverage, maybe it was manipulative, hoping that Quatre would abandon his life on L4 when he finally reached the point where making love with Trowa became more important. 

Quatre had essentially accused him of that, too. In a spat, both of them wanting sex, but Trowa holding out yet again, Quatre had snapped and accused him of emotional blackmail. Trowa didn't deny it. He knew he was right. Maybe it was a shitty thing to do, but he also couldn't keep living like this. He had to do _something_ to convince Quatre that something had to change and he'd run out of ideas as to how to do it.

Of course, that also ran the risk of Quatre just getting fed up and dropping him like a bad habit. There was always that risk, but Trowa was sure he knew Quatre well enough to know the blond would never do that. He couldn't. Not anymore than Trowa could. They were both trapped in this pseudo relationship, this whirlwind not-quite-romance. It was also possible that Quatre had a lover on the side, someone he could go to for sex since Trowa wouldn't provide. Someone to satisfy him until Trowa was ready to make love to him. Though Quatre insisted, albeit bitterly, that he was still a virgin and reminded Trowa at every opportunity exactly _whose_ fault that was.

Trowa was also reaching the point where he was losing his will to keep resisting. His own patience at the situation becoming threadbare, worn away. His need to just throw the blond down onto his bed and push his way inside becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. His fantasies became more and more vivid as time went on. The daydreams of that slender body beneath his own, imagining the legs wrapped around his waist, the soft moans and cries. They segued into his subconscious while he slept and he often found himself waking up in the middle of the night with a raging boner. It would usually require him to take himself in hand if he wanted to be able to go back to sleep. The remnants of those dreams flickered behind his eyes, fueling his passion, and he would bite down on his fist to muffle his groans so as not to wake Cathy.

He shuddered, his body flushing with arousal at the thought of sex. He sniffed in a lungful of cool Canadian air to calm his ignited nerves and slow his heart rate back to normal. It wouldn't do to face Cathy with tented jeans. Not that she didn't know, couldn't put two and two together. It was still embarrassing. 

There was a light drizzle outside. The tiny pinpricks of cold water assaulted his face and he shut the door when a gust of wind picked up, blowing his long bangs away from his eyes. He didn't know when he'd see Quatre again. It could be weeks, months. He was not looking forward to the lull in between visits, the cold, lonely bed, and the solitary sex he would have with his hand. His fantasies would have to do until something changed, if they ever changed. He wasn't happy about the prospect that it might never happen, though he doubted it would come to that. He was fairly certain he would cave long before going another fifteen years without making love to Quatre. 

"Are you moping?"

Trowa turned from the door, a blush already blooming across his cheeks. He tried to save face, already knowing Cathy would see right through it. "No."

Cathy rolled her eyes and picked up the plates off the table, carrying them over to the trailer's small kitchenette. "You two are so pathetic."

Trowa huffed, mildly affronted. "We are not." He grabbed the glasses and silverware, following her into the kitchen and depositing them in the sink.

"You are! You two have been mooning over each other for fifteen years. Maybe longer. When are you going to just go for it?"

"I suppose when Quat decides he wants a relationship."

"Oh, Trowa! He does! How do you not _see_ that? It's all over his face."

"Maybe he does, but he's not - he won't -" He trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

"Won't give up his life? His job? His livelihood? His responsibilities? How can you expect him to do that?"

Trowa flushed, suddenly feeling petty. "I just want us to be together. Is that so wrong?"

Cathy rested a hand on his shoulder, her face soft with sympathy. "Of course it's not. But you knew what was expected of him from the very beginning. You can't expect him to drop everything and spend his life sharing a trailer with the two of us."

"Why can't I?"

"Trowa, you've got to have something to offer him."

"I offered to take care of him -"

"Which he probably took as an insult."

Trowa refused to answer, but he caught her nod out of the corner of his eye. Busted.

"Trowa, he doesn't need you to treat him like a helpless little flower -" she held up a hand when he opened his mouth to argue. "You do. I've seen it. You need to recognize that he's not the little boy he was when you met. He's a thirty one year old man who's done more and is capable of more than the average sixty year old. So are you."

"I _know_ that!"

"Then _treat_ him like it! Figure out something significant to offer him besides protection he doesn't need. And for Christ's sake, take his god damned virginity already."

Trowa turned away, trying to hide the heat in his face that he was sure was making him beet red. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Well, I'm not blind, or deaf. Or stupid. I've heard your arguments. Why are you holding out on him?"

"Because I - I just wanted to wait until we had something solid, you know?"

"So you're holding sex hostage until he gives his life up for you. Honestly, Trowa."

Now there was an aspect of shame added to the flush on his face, suddenly aware of how selfish he was being. "I...didn't realize..."

"Well, realize it. You're making him, not to mention yourself, needlessly suffer and for what?"

He sighed, feeling tired of the whole game and knowing she was right. "You're right. I don't know why I'm doing this."

"You need to man up. Quit being passive aggressive and go take what you want. If you want him to be a bigger part of your life, you need to have some semblance of independence and security. You need to show him that _you're_ ready for the next step. Show him what life will be like when you _are_ together. Quite frankly, living in my trailer is not a tempting prospect for a future relationship." She slapped his arm. "And quit torturing him and yourself! Lay that boy out and make him scream your name."

" _Jesus_ , Cathy!"

"What? Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a prude, and I'm certainly not too old to appreciate sex. I'll have you know -"

"No, okay...okay. I get it. You don't need to say anymore." He dried off the last plate and stacked it in the cupboard. "Please."

"Or, maybe _you're_ the prude."

He paused, considering it. Was he? He didn't think so. Not if the fantasies he'd had were any indication. "No, I'm pretty sure I'm not."

"Well then. Be a man and take care of business. Poor boy's never been laid and I don't know when the last time you were."

Too damn long, that was for sure. As embarrassing as this whole conversation was, he grudgingly admitted it had helped greatly. "Thanks, Cathy. You're the best."

"I know." She winked and flipped her hair and Trowa couldn't help but laugh. "Seriously though, I'm glad I could help. It's getting really depressing watching the two of you dance around each other."

Trowa snorted. "Tell me about it." He felt much better now. Decided and much more optimistic about the future. He realized how ridiculous it was to expect Quatre to just drop everything for him. Though he did hope he would leave WEI behind for his sisters to take care of and still planned to gently coax him into it, though not just for himself, but for Quatre. It wasn't good for him. It was too much stress, too much of a burden to carry all by himself. Quatre needed a life of his own. He'd spent his entire life trying to make everyone around him happy, making sure they were safe and taken care of, including Trowa. It was time for someone to take care of him.

Trowa was still dead set on doing that, but Cathy was right. He needed to offer him more than a shared trailer with his sister and part time employment at a circus. He needed a steady job, a place of his own. He needed to stabilize his own life before he could expect Quatre to come running to him with open arms. He did indeed need to "man up" and take what he wanted, and that included a sexual relationship. He dried his hands off on a dish towel, vowing to show Quatre exactly how he felt the next time he saw him. How he'd always felt. That decision made, he didn't know how he was going to be able to wait.

"Glad to see I talked some sense into you." Cathy kissed his cheek and stepped out of the kitchen, slipping her raincoat on. "I've got to take these costumes over to Clyde. I won't be long."

"Need help?"

"No, I got it." 

Trowa knew the costumes weren't the only reason she was going over there, knew why she didn't want his help. She'd been seeing the circus master for a few years now, after they'd done their own little bob and weave dance around each other for nearly seventeen years. 

His lips curled up in a knowing smirk. "Have fun."

She scoffed and playfully swatted him upside the head. "Don't wait up."

"Never."

He held the door open for her and helped her down the steps until she was safely on the ground with the boxes of costumes in her arms. 

"Careful, Cath. It's dark. Don't trip."

Her exasperated voice carried over through the dark. "Yes, Mother."

He chuckled and closed the door, heading back to the kitchen to finish up. He put the rest of the clean dishes away and flicked the lights off, making sure to leave a lamp on in the living room so Cathy wouldn't stumble into the furniture when she returned. He retired to his own room and locked the door, not that he really needed to. It wasn't like Cathy was going to barge in on him, but it still felt safer. He pulled his shirt over his head and draped it across the chair in front of the tiny desk and slid his jeans off, laying them over his shirt. He flopped down onto the full-sized bed in his boxers. It may have been cold outside, but Cathy always keep the heat in the trailer up pretty high. As a result, his room was always stifling. He kicked the blankets down to the foot of the bed, too warm to use them yet, folded his hands beneath his head, and stared up at the stucco ceiling.

He idly watched a small cobweb that was dangling from the heat vent twirl and spin in the current of air. His mind turned to Quatre, as it always did during this time. Now though, it was a little more positive, a little less wistful. He missed him already and his heart ached to have the blond back in his bed, but there was a sense of hope now that he hadn't allowed himself to have before. It had been something he'd given up for a time, but it came back with a vengeance. It could work. They could make it work. He just had to figure out how. He knew he had to consider the fact that Quatre might never leave WEI. Obviously, the best case scenario would be that he would, but he might not and Trowa had to figure out how to manage their relationship if that happened. Still, he was sure they could find a way. 

And Cathy was right about him setting up a life for himself. Not only to show Quat he was serious about them, but also for his own independence. He really didn't want to be shacking up with his sister for the rest of his life. He was sure she and Clyde would want to be able to spend time together here and not just in his own trailer. He wasn't sure why she hadn't moved in with him yet, but he supposed she still wanted her own space. A space that Trowa perpetually occupied and he felt bad about that. He also didn't want to be making love to Quatre while she was in earshot. The very notion made him blush and he wondered again if maybe he wasn't a prude. 

His dick swelled at the thought of sex and he quickly dismissed that possibility. No, not a prude. Slightly repressed maybe, but definitely not a prude. He remembered the last time he'd had sex. After their last performance of the season, some of the men from the circus had invited a group of girls to join in their end of the year celebration. It wasn't anything big, or special. Just a party among the circus family. Trowa had invited Quatre, but Quatre had been unable to make it. Disappointed, Trowa indulged in a few too many cups of cheap ale from the keg and found himself being felt up by an equally inebriated young woman who'd been flirting with him since she'd first arrived.

Though she wasn't Quatre, she could have been the female version of him. Her curly blond hair and big blue eyes were eerily reminiscent of his would-be lover and Trowa, his inhibitions gone off on their own somewhere, wound up responding to her advances. The fact that he hadn't had sex since before the war hadn't helped his resistance. When she took his hand and pulled him into the narrow, dark space between two trailers and cupped his groin, his body flared with arousal and he'd acted without even thinking. He pinned her up against the trailer and kissed her hungrily, his hands traveling down to lift the edge of her skirt and touch the smooth skin of her thighs. She groaned and lifted a leg and through the haze of his mind, he got the message. 

He stripped her of her panties and grasped the backs of her thighs, lifting her legs and pinning her between his chest and the dirty aluminum siding of the trailer. He drunkenly fumbled with the fastenings of his jeans, groaning brokenly when his cock made contact with the moist heat of her pussy. Too far gone to stop, he pushed himself in and roughly fucked her against the metal which dented under the force of his thrusts, yanking down the front of her blouse to suckle at her breasts. The only thing on his mind at the time was how good she felt, her breathy pants against his ear, and the rising surge of his orgasm gathering in his balls. 

He just barely bit down on his tongue to keep from howling when he came, having just the last remnants of coherent thought to pull his dick out of her before it spurted. He groaned around clenched teeth, holding his spasming cock and watched the ropes of come splatter against the folds of her vagina and drip down onto the grass below. 

His vision was blurry as he stared at her fingers, rubbing over herself in a desperate attempt to climax. Her soft whimpers reached his ears, still in his half-crazed state. "Make me come again."

He lowered her to the ground, but held one leg up and out of the way, kneeling down and burying his face between her shaking thighs. He got a mouthful of his own come, bitter and salty as he licked and probed at her, sucking the swollen lips of her pussy into his mouth and enduring the trembling fingers pulling at his hair. She came a few minutes later with a gasp, his mouth flooding with heat and fluid. He drank it in, licking her through it while she shuddered and groaned from overstimulation before he finally pulled away and lowered her leg.

What happened after that was foggy, but he was pretty sure he ended up stumbling back to his trailer, feeling sick though he wasn't sure why. She evidently followed him and he passed out a short time later. He woke up the next morning in his bed with the naked woman sleeping beside him. The reality of what had happened filled him with a profound sense of dread and regret. The knowledge that he'd betrayed Quatre, even though they technically weren't together made him want to crawl under a rock and die. Even more so when the woman cracked her eyes open and smiled groggily at him. He realized with a start that he didn't even know her name and tried not to puke when she caressed his cheek.

His eyes were drawn to her bare breasts, flushing with shame when his cock filled with blood. She mistook his blush for arousal and grabbed his hand, guiding it down between her thighs. He turned his head into the pillow, hopelessly horny and feeling terribly guilty about it. It had been so long since he'd had sex and her pussy felt so good against his fingers, hot and moist. He pressed two into her opening and felt her shudder in pleasure. Despite his guilt, he rose up over her and pulled a tightened nipple into his mouth, savoring the soft whimper and increased wetness between her legs. Pushing his uneasiness to the back of his mind, he swung a leg over her head and lowered his groin over her mouth, groaning brokenly when she sucked him in. 

He ate her out, ravenous at the sweet taste of her and when he could no longer stand it, he grabbed her legs, holding them in the air, and guided his cock inside her. He fucked her with abandon, watching her breasts bounce with his thrusts, leaning over her to mouth hungrily at them. His tiny bedroom was filled with the sounds of her gasping moans, the slapping of their skin, the creaking of the bed springs, and his own heavy panting. 

But the guilt was still there. Quatre's face emerging behind his closed eyelids. With a rush of shame, he pulled out, flipped the girl onto her belly, spread her thighs, and thrust back in. In this position, he could almost pretend it was Quatre he was fucking. The fantasy grew and expanded in his mind until it became reality. A surge of arousal overwhelmed him when he pictured his love spread out before him, moaning in ecstasy. The vision nearly caused Trowa to black out and it brought him immediately to the brink. He pressed his lips together a split second before he shouted Quatre's name and ejaculated over the girl's ass. He groaned as the last of his seed dribbled out, sliding down the crevice between her buttocks, and watched her finger herself towards climax. He turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut when she shouted in bliss, reality finally crashing down on top of him with startling clarity.

He dropped down to the mattress, panting and feeling drained. His mind registered the sensation of her fingertips stroking over his back, but did not touch her again. He felt dirty, cheap, and embarrassed that he apparently couldn't control himself. That he didn't at least have the decency to ask the girl her name before he fucked her.

"Hey." Her whisper brought him out of his guilt-induced musings and he turned his head, blinking at her with bleary eyes. She smiled at him, understanding on her pretty face. "This doesn't have to mean anything. I just thought you were cute. We had fun. That's all."

Trowa lifted his head, not sure if she was just trying to put him at ease. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I actually have a boyfriend so..."

Somehow, the idea that she was also cheating didn't make him feel any better. "Sorry. I guess we both got carried away."

She grinned and sat up, reaching for her clothes. "I suppose so. Anyway, don't feel bad. Like I said, we had fun. Nothing more to say."

He turned onto his side and watched her get dressed. "What's your name?"

"Melissa."

"I'm Trowa. I'm sorry I didn't ask sooner."

She shrugged. "I didn't ask either. It doesn't matter." She shimmied into her blouse and brushed her hair off her forehead. She had sex hair and Trowa self-consciously reached up and touched his own, assuming he probably did, too. "I need to find my friends. Let them know I'm okay."

"Do you want some coffee, or anything before you go?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine." She grabbed her purse and slipped the thin strap over her shoulder. "Well, Trowa. It was nice...meeting you. Thanks for a great time."

Trowa nodded. "Thank you, too."

"You're welcome. You looked like you needed a good time. Whoever she is, she'd better get her act together. You're quite a catch."

Trowa was momentarily confused before he realized she was referring to Quatre. He hadn't realized his pining was so blatantly put on display. Had he always been that transparent? "It's...complicated."

"Isn't it always?"

She left then and Trowa reclined back onto his pillows, not sure what he was feeling. His body was deliciously sated, but he felt gutted, raw. Quatre had been trying to seduce him for four years without success and then this girl shows up and he just jumps on her without a second thought? What _was_ that? He thought back to the moment when Melissa had become Quatre in his mind. How his lust had intensified so much that he'd climaxed only moments later. This whole situation was so confusing, so exhausting. He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the beginnings of stubble on his cheeks and chin. He could still taste the girl in his mouth and had the sudden urge to brush his teeth.

Complicated indeed.

Cathy was no help either. Trowa sheepishly sipped his coffee while enduring her evil eye all through breakfast. Excuses formed on the tip of his tongue and dissolved like a lozenge before he could voice them. He said nothing, knowing there was nothing to say that would make him look good. He quietly helped her clean up the cereal bowls and mugs and avoided her eyes as much as possible.

It wasn't until he was about to head back to his room, his tail between his legs, that her scathing voice broke the tense silence.

"Did you have fun?"

Trowa paused halfway down the short hallway, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Couldn't she at least wait until he'd had a nap before reading him the riot act? He turned slowly, like a cowed dog that knew it was in trouble and gave her his most pitiful, pleading look.

Cathy stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Her pink bathrobe was untied and opened around her flannel pajamas and her feet were stuffed into a pair of blue, fuzzy slippers. Her hair was rumpled from sleep and she looked more like a seven year old girl on Christmas morning than a thirty year old woman. Yet somehow she was still able to intimidate him.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Cathy -"

"And don't "Cathy" me. Who was that girl? What the hell happened last night?"

Trowa threw his arms up in a helpless gesture. "I drank too much."

Cathy scoffed. "Not good enough."

"Look, Cath. I'm sorry, okay? I messed up."

"Are you going to tell Quatre about this?"

 _Quatre_. He swallowed down a rush of renewed guilt, feeling like utter shit. Quatre was back on L4, working his ass off and saving himself for Trowa and what did Trowa do? Slept with the first person that came onto him.

Well, no. Actually, that wasn't true. He'd been come onto quite a few times and he'd always turned them down. Still didn't make what happened last night any better.

"I don't have an excuse. I messed up. And yes, I will tell Quatre," he said, knowing he would and dreading the fuck out of it.

Quatre was predictably furious, but what Trowa hadn't expected was for him to completely cut off ties with him for nearly two years. He refused Trowa's calls, never returned his messages, and Trowa was beginning to think he'd destroyed everything they had and could have had. In a last ditch effort, he'd flown to L4 and literally stormed past Quatre's secretary despite the woman shouting at him that he wasn't allowed to see him without an appointment. 

"Fuck your appointments."

He reached the door to Quatre's office and swung it open so hard, it bounced off the adjacent wall. Quatre looked up in surprise and Trowa didn't miss the deft hands diving into his suit jacket for his firearm that he evidently still carried. 

Old habits died hard. 

Quatre stared at him with wide eyes and slid his gun back into its holster. "Trowa, what the hell? What are you doing here?"

Trowa stepped inside and shut the door, his words momentarily stuck in his throat when he came face to face with the man he loved for the first time in two years. He still looked the same as the last time Trowa had seen him, but his hair was longer, his shoulders slightly broader, his cheekbones more prominent. In a word, he was breathtaking and Trowa realized as beautiful as Melissa had been, she was no match for the real thing. And he'd thrown it away. The best thing that had ever happened to him. How stupid could he be?

"I want to talk."

Quatre's brows lowered over eyes that darkened with anger. "Then leave a message with Jan. I'll get back to you." He sat back down at his desk and studiously ignored Trowa, focusing on the paperwork scattered haphazardly across the top.

"Quat -"

"No."

Trowa paused, then tried again. "I'm sorry."

Quatre stared down at his desk for a moment before he lifted his head. "Sorry?"

"Yes."

"Were you sorry before you fucked that floozy, or after?"

Trowa nodded guiltily, giving him that one. "I was drunk. And I know it's not an excuse," he continued hurriedly when he saw Quatre preparing to unleash a generous amount of snark for that. "I...don't have an excuse and I - I don't expect anything from you. I just love you and I miss you and I know I screwed up, but I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. I couldn't leave things as they were without telling you how much I love you."

Quatre leaned across his desk, folding his hands over the papers. "I've been trying to get you to make love to me for four years. Four. _Years_. You say you love me, but you won't _make love_ to me. Then, this girl comes along and you -" He cut himself off and looked away, gazing out the windows with eyes that belied his sadness and Trowa's heart broke.

"I'm so sorry, Quat."

Quatre's voice was shaky with emotion. "Just tell me why?"

"Because she meant nothing to me and you mean everything."

Quatre glared at him. "Don't insult my intelligence."

"I'm not, Quat! It's true."

"Why won't you have sex with me?"

Trowa threw his hands up in exasperation. "Because I want _you_. _All_ of you! Not just the bits and pieces left over after you've given yourself to everyone else. Call me selfish, but I want every part of you. But what do _I_ get, Quat? I get the exhausted, burnt out you for a night, or two a few times a year." Quatre was silent, but Trowa noticed his flushed cheeks, the twitch in his jaw. "It's not enough."

"You think it's enough for me?"

"No, of course I don't. But, Quat...I'm human. I screwed up. I was weak. You know I never meant to hurt you, don't you? You know me better than that by now."

"Do I?"

That stung and Trowa stared down at the floor, trying his best not to explode. He was pretty sure security was on their way. "I don't have much time, but I just had to tell you. How sorry I am. I never meant to hurt you and I promise it'll never happen again. I love you so damn much, Quat. You mean the world to me and I just want to be with you. Actually _with_ you, enjoying _all_ of you. If that makes me selfish, then fine. I'm selfish." He could hear shouting and the pounding of footsteps now, coming closer. "Just please, think it over. I don't blame you for being angry, but I love you too much to just let this fester and die."

The door suddenly bent inwards, the wood cracking and breaking under the force. It swung open and banged against the wall again, quickly followed by a dozen burly men in security uniforms. Trowa didn't put up a fight when they grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out of the office. He kept his eyes on Quatre, watching as the blond stood behind his desk with an unreadable expression. Before Trowa was pulled out of sight, he said one last time, "I love you. I love you, Quat."

Ten minutes later, he was hurled out through the front doors of WEI's headquarters, rolling across the cement and smacking into a brick planter. Thankfully, it was there to stop his momentum, else he would have rolled right into the street and gotten creamed by the heavy flow of traffic at rush hour. Passersby merely stepped over him without a second glance and Trowa idly wondered if it was common for people to be thrown out of Quatre's building.

He sat up and rubbed the sting out of his back where it hit the rough bricks of the planter. The security guards stood like nightclub bouncers in front of the door, beefy arms crossed over their equally beefy chests, and glaring at Trowa like they dared him to try and get inside the building again. He curled his lip and gave them the finger.

"Thanks for the hospitality, you pricks."

He scrambled to his feet and high-tailed it down the sidewalk when they stepped towards him, cracking knuckles into their palms and ready to crack a few of Trowa's bones along with them. He probably could have taken them down, but it just wasn't worth it. He trudged down the sidewalk, occasionally bumping into people's shoulders, though he scarcely noticed. He felt cold despite the warm, climate-controlled air of L4, and wrapped his arms around himself as he headed to the public transport that would take him to his shuttle. There was nothing more he could do. It was up to Quatre now to forgive him.

His dream came true a few months later when he finished his performance on a muggy July night, bowing to the cheering crowd along with Cathy, and disappearing behind the wall of the tent. He stopped short when he encountered the one person he desperately wished to see, but never thought he would again. Quatre smiled and shuffled on his feet, offering an awkward wave in greeting. 

Trowa didn't realize his mouth was hanging open until Cathy reached over and closed it for him. She kissed Quatre's cheek and walked away, sending Trowa a stern look over the blond's shoulder that spoke volumes.

_Don't fuck this up._

Trowa's heart pounded, his words lost in shock. Quatre seemed to be suffering from the same condition and they stared at each other for several minutes like a couple of dunderheads before Trowa shook himself out of it and cleared his throat.

"Uh...hi," he said and immediately cringed.  _Smooth, Barton._

Quatre's lips quirked. "Hi. You were great in there, as always." His eyes not-so-subtly gave Trowa a once-over and he felt suddenly shy in his shirtless costume. "You look good."

"Thanks. So do you." Quatre was dressed in a simple t-shirt, one that hugged his slender, but toned frame, and a pair of denim shorts. His blond hair was swept off his forehead, cascading around his ears in gentle waves. He was the most beautiful thing Trowa had ever seen.

Quatre was fidgeting which was very uncharacteristic and Trowa valiantly suppressed the urge to take him into his arms and soothe away his worries. He wasn't sure if he'd earned that yet. "Trowa, I -"

"Wait. Let's go talk somewhere a little more private."

They walked in relative silence back to Trowa's trailer, Quatre making generalized small talk and Trowa listening contentedly. Cathy was off somewhere which worked out well for them. When the door closed, Quatre pressed him up against it and kissed him. His mouth was soft, sweet, and desperate, and Trowa instantly responded with a heavy, heart-felt groan. Quatre was awkward, inexperienced, but Trowa still thought it was the best kiss he'd ever had. Infinitely better than kissing the girl. His mind was lost in a haze of lust, not realizing what he was doing when he reversed their positions and lifted the blond into his arms, holding him against the door. His mouth sought the soft skin behind Quatre's ear and suckled reverently at it, his nose picking up the scent of strawberry shampoo. 

Quatre's voice lilted across his ears, sounding like the sweetest music. He whispered Trowa's name, grinding his pelvis against the rigid muscle of his abdomen. Trowa was on the cusp of carrying him to the couch and having his way with him right then and there, not even caring if Cathy walked in on them. 

His reservations made themselves known at the last second and he abruptly pulled away and stepped back. He panted and closed his eyes as his body screamed in protest. He couldn't do it. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't. Not until they actually had something to call their own. Not until Quatre was completely his and not everyone else's.

Quatre was in much the same state as he was, breathing hard, his shorts tented slightly, the hard line of his erection prominent against the denim. His eyes were wide in surprise and Trowa's heart clenched from the hurt swimming in the blue depths.

"What's the problem, Trowa?"

He placed a hand against the wall and gathered his bearings, his mind and body at war with his heart. "I can't. I'm sorry, Quat. I can't. Not yet."

"Why not? You fucked that girl with no problem, but you won't fuck me. Why not?"

"Because I love you and I need you to be mine."

"I _am_ yours!"

Trowa shook his head. "No. You're not. You still belong to the rest of the world. Not me."

Quatre's eyes shimmered and Trowa felt lower than a snake. "Trowa -"

Before he could finish, Trowa cupped his face and pressed their foreheads together. "I'm sorry, baby. I just can't. Not now. I need something more substantial. Please try to understand it's only because I love you so much."

Quatre swallowed, Trowa watched the bob in his throat and wanted to wrap his lips around that Adam's apple. "I love you, too. I just don't understand."

"I know it's hard. It's hard to explain, but...I need you. I need you so badly and I can't have you. Not the way I want to. Until I have that, I just can't do it."

Quatre pressed his lips together and looked away. He nodded, a quick dip of his head. "If you say so."

"I'm sorry."

Quatre sniffled and blew out a soft breath. "I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I can't be what you want."

"You can."

"Trowa, you know I can't leave WEI."

"Why not?"

Quatre's face was incredulous. "Why not? Are you serious? How many times have we had this discussion?"

Trowa held up a placating hand. "Alright, okay. I don't want to fight. I'm sorry. We'll - we'll work this out somehow." He had no idea how, but didn't voice that. It wasn't the time. He'd just gotten Quatre back. "So you forgive me?"

Quatre sighed and tipped his head back, banging it against the door hard enough that Trowa wondered if it hurt, though Quatre showed no indication that it did. "Of course. I'll always forgive you. You know that."

"I wasn't so sure for a while there."

There was a wry gleam in the blue eyes. "I never said I wouldn't be pissed at you."

Trowa nodded and attempted a smile. "True."

They spent the rest of the night talking, though they carefully avoided the sensitive subjects and just enjoyed being in each other's company again. Trowa was over the moon to have the blond back in his arms, in his life. Quatre left the next morning, required to be back on L4, but Trowa made the best of their short time together, curling his body around Quatre's as they snuggled in his bed, his face buried in the soft, blond hair. It was the best night's sleep he'd gotten in two years.

***

He didn't realize he'd dozed off until he jolted awake by an eerily familiar popping sound. Age-old instincts had him flying out of bed before his brain was even able to identify the sound. By the time he reached the door, he knew what he'd heard was gunshots. His heart pounded, adrenaline flooding his body when screams filtered in through the thin walls and windows of the trailer. He pulled his rifle out from beneath the couch and slapped a magazine into the hand grip. He could still hear the occasional pop of the gun and easily identified it as an AK. He stood at the door and braced himself, making sure the safety on his weapon was off, then pulled the door open and glanced around. 

He caught sight of some of his people running past the trailer, didn't miss the terror in their eyes. He quickly ushered them inside and told them to lock the door and lay low. He held his gun at the ready and used the darkness of night and the shadows of the trees to conceal him as he headed towards the sound of the gunshots. He spotted the man near Clyde's trailer, his heart stopping when he saw bodies. He took aim and pulled the trigger. The bullets ripped through the man's back, shredding his jacket in bursts of blood that looked black in the dim lighting of the trailer. The man wavered on his feet for a breathless moment, then tipped forward, face-planting in the grass. 

Trowa rushed over to him and checked his vitals, feeling nothing. He grabbed the weapons and stood up, turning to take in the bodies that were scattered about. One form lay still in the grass, painfully familiar and he shouted as he ran to her, dropping down onto his knees. He lifted Cathy into his arms, gasping sobs escaping his lips as he cradled her. He counted three holes in her chest and frantically pressed his hands over the wounds, trying to stop the now slow ooze of blood, which was not a good sign. The lack of pulsing blood indicated that her heart was not beating and he laid her out on the grass and pressed the heels of his hands into the center of her breastbone. He began the chest compressions, begging through his tears for her to come back.

"Come on, Cath. Don't do this. You can't leave me. _Please!_ "

He knew she was already gone, but continued to perform CPR despite the fact that there was no hope. He gave her his breath, pushing the air between her lax, chilled lips, praying it would put the life back into her. His hands, shaky and frozen, repeatedly pressed down into her chest, desperately trying to get her heart to beat. It was no use and after ten agonizing minutes, he gave up. His grief rendered him mute, his open mouth releasing silent sobs as he gathered her into his arms and wept.

_I'm so sorry, Cath. Oh god, I'm sorry. I couldn't save you. I couldn't protect you. I'm so sorry._

The rest of the survivors came out of their hiding places and went to check on the victims. Some were already gone, including the circus master, but many appeared to be injured to varying degrees from mild to critical. To Trowa though, nothing else mattered because his sister was gone. His beloved Cathy. What was he going to do now?

He leaned his head back, staring blindly at the stars above him that continued to twinkle as though this was nothing significant. He couldn't understand, couldn't fathom why this happened. It made no sense. Nothing made any sense now in his churning, anguished mind. 

His mouth opened without him even realizing it, and he screamed. He screamed the only word that meant anything anymore, the only relevant word that existed in the entire universe. The name of the only person that could possibly help him, the only one who could make things better, and knowing that person would hear him even though he was hundreds of thousands of miles away.

" _Quatre!_ "


End file.
